


I Love You

by Taybay14



Series: Saving people, writing prompts [30]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Confessions, Confused Dean, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hunting, Idiots in Love, Impala, M/M, Mutual Pining, New York City, Poor Sam, Sad Cas, Sammy just wants these two to get their shit together, Song: I Love You (Billie Eilish), Stubborn Dean, Tension, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: Anon Prompt from Tumblr: Something written to fit Billie Eilish “I love you” .... i can’t help but picture Destiel whenever I hear itIt’s 3:10 now. Stairway to Heaven is over. They pass mile marker 24. Dean’s no longer smiling. Castiel’s moonlit eyes are brimming with tears.And everything has changed.





	I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> To say I enjoyed writing this is an understatement <3 Hopefully you enjoy reading it.

It happens just after 3 a.m. on a crisp fall night. The Impala is driving down I-80, heading to their hunt in New York. Sammy is passed out in the back seat, having finished his turn driving the hour before. These kinds of nights are the ones Dean loves the most. A magic falls over the impala. Sam isn’t very good at night time driving, so it’s Dean pulling the late shift. It’s dark outside, the stars above shining as the impala travels down tree-lined roads. The radio plays some of the best music at night, not bogged down by idiot’s calling in and requesting crap. Hot coffee will be sitting in the make-shift cup holder beside him, unless it’s been a particularly rough day. Then it’s a sugary energy drink that makes him shake but does the trick. 

And, of course, there’s Castiel beside him. On the nights Dean favors, Castiel is always beside him. Forcing himself to stay awake, to keep Dean company, even though the now-human is always so damn exhausted. 

These nights are when Dean and Castiel have their talks. Dean supposes that’s where he first went wrong. His mistake was letting Castiel see right through him. It wasn’t like that at first. Dean made damn sure to keep his guard up, just like with everyone else, but over the years that changed. Castiel wormed his way past all of Dean’s defenses, even the ones Sam couldn’t. The talks started after the two spent their time together in Purgatory. At first, Dean was hesitant. He mostly listened, letting Castiel say all of the things he was too afraid to. But as time went on, as Dean let Castiel in, it became so easy to say everything Dean never let himself say before.

Tonight, just like all the others, they’re talking. It’s 3:07. In the front seat of the Impala. With Stairway to Heaven crooning softly from the turned-down radio. They're just passing mile marker 21. 

One second, Dean’s laughing his way through a story from a trip the boys took with Bobby when they were younger. The next, Castiel is looking over at him, moonlight reflecting in his blue eyes, wearing an enigmatic smile Dean’s never seen before. 

“What?” Dean asks, still laughing. 

“Nothin’.”

“Whatever, weirdo.” Dean picks up his coffee and takes a sip, then hands it to Castiel without a word. He's always doing things like that. Taking care of Castiel. At first, he hid behind the excuse that Castiel was new to being human, and he needed someone to make sure he's eating and sleeping and happy. To make sure he has coffee on nights like tonight. To make sure he has good mix-tapes to listen to. To make sure he gets to watch Grey's Anatomy every Thursday night, no matter where they are. 

Okay, so maybe not all of that can be explained by the whole human thing, but no one has ever called Dean on it, so the lie is being held together with a fragile string. Dean knows the real reason he's willing to make the world stop turning just to make Castiel smile. There's no need to _acknowledge _it, though. None at all. 

Dean releases a deep sigh as he looks out at the road, pulling his thoughts back to where they belong.

"Damn, though. Bobby was one hell of a guy," he says quietly, shaking his head as he remembers his surrogate father. "Some nights I miss him so damn much. Like I just can't wrap my mind around him not being around anymore. I know it's been years, but sometimes I forget. Last week, I found myself dialing the first four digits of his number to ask him a question about a case." 

Something like that would have made Dean blush in the past. He would have felt like an idiot and tried to hurry up and change the subject. _No chick flick moments. _Castiel changed that, though. All Dean feels now is relief. 

He glances over at Castiel to find the man staring at him again. Dean raises an eyebrow, "Whatcha thinkin’ bout over there, feathers?" 

Dean expects Castiel to say something cutesy or positive that will make Dean roll his eyes. Or maybe something to make Dean laugh, like those silly random facts Castiel always seems to know. 

He expects, "Everything will be alright, Dean. You'll see Bobby again someday. And I know he's proud of you."

He expects, "You know, there was this cargo ship that crashed in 1992 that was full of 28,000 rubber ducks. People are still finding them to this day." 

What he does _not _expect is what Castiel blurts out. “I love you!” 

“Y - you what?” Dean slows down, looking over at Castiel again. The man’s cheeks are bright red, and his blue eyes are wide with terror. He just stares straight ahead at the road, pretending like the moment isn’t happening. 

It’s 3:10 now. Stairway to Heaven is over. They pass mile marker 24. Dean’s no longer smiling. Castiel’s moonlit eyes are brimming with tears. 

And everything has changed. 

\---- 

Castiel wants out of the Impala. His confession is filling every available inch, taking up the oxygen, and he’s going to suffocate if he doesn’t escape. 

He should take it back. Tell Dean he was just trying to make him laugh. Then nothing has to change today. 

Castiel didn’t mean to say _I love you._

But he can’t do that, because Castiel meant it. Sure, he didn’t mean to _say _it, not now, not tonight. Probably not ever. But Castiel _meant _it. He loves Dean Winchester with every fiber of his being. 

And now Dean knows the truth. And Castiel can already feel it between them. Everything has changed. Everything is ruined. 

Dean takes the next exit without saying anything. Castiel sits back in his seat, wraps his arms tight around his waist, and closes his eyes. A tear slips down his cheek, but he’s hoping Dean will ignore it. Just like they’ve both silently decided right now to ignore everything that’s happened in the past few minutes. 

The car stops moving, and Castiel forces himself to open his eyes. They’re in a motel parking lot. The sign is bright red and ominous. In his peripheral vision, Castiel sees Dean’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white. The man’s shoulders cave in. His chin drops to his chest. 

“I - I didn’t mean to make you cry, Cas. Please… please don’t cry.”

Castiel opens the car door and stumbles out into the parking lot. The fresh air feels good inside his lungs. Relieving. He tilts his head back and stares up at the stars. Castiel would give anything to be up there right now. To be anywhere, really. Anywhere but here. 

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Sam grumbles before slamming his car door shut. Castiel can feel eyes on him, but he pretends like he can’t. It’s bad enough he’s still crying. He won’t make it worse by looking at either of the Winchesters right now. Sam asks another question when no one answers him. “Where are we? This isn’t NYC.”

“We’re just outside of Bloomsburg.” After a stretch of silence that’s far too long, Dean explains, “We’re stopping for the night.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired.”

“I’ll drive.”

“No.” 

“Dean, we’re less than three hours away. We’ll sleep when we get there.”

“We’re stopping, Sam. End of discussion.”

“But-”

“Sam,” Castiel says in a voice that cracks and shakes. “We’re staying.”

The air is suddenly heavy again. Even worse than it was in the impala. Sam clears his throat and Dean shuffles awkwardly on the sidewalk. Everything sort of blurs for Castiel. They somehow start moving. They go to the front desk. Someone buys a room. Dean says something about his flask and heads back to the car. Sam and Castiel walk down a hall. They get inside. Sam takes his jacket off and flops down on the bed. Dean comes back. Castiel is still standing in the center of the room, staring off into space. 

It isn’t until Dean mumbles, “I’ll take the floor,” that Castiel realizes there’s only one single bed and a rickety pull-out couch. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean,” Sam growls. “The pull-outs a double. Just bunk with Cas.” 

“I’m fine on the floor.” 

“Dude, what’s your fucking problem? First you want to stop only 3 hours away from our destination. Now you don’t want to sleep next to a guy you’ve slept next to countless times during hunts?” Things must begin to process as he speaks because Castiel can hear the sound of his voice change at the end of the final sentence. In case Castiel wasn’t sure, Sam confirms by asking, “What happened between you guys?”

“Nothing,” Castiel and Dean say at once - Castiel in a broken whisper, Dean in a defensive bark. 

After a loud huff, Sam says, “I’m getting my own room. Maybe the two of you can finally figure your shit out.”

The sound of the door shutting seems to echo inside Castiel’s chest. He can feel Dean on the other side of the room. Even though he’s human now, Castiel hasn’t lost that connection. He’s always hyper-aware of Dean. Tonight is the first time he’s ever hated that. 

“I - uh. I’ll take the pull-out.”

Castiel manages a slight nod. He walks over to the bed Sam was just on. Numb. Empty. Broken. His hands shake as he tries to take off his sweatshirt, so he leaves it on. In fact, he gives up on trying to get ready for bed entirely, settling for just crawling onto the center of the mattress and laying there atop the blankets. 

He’s not sure how much time passes before Dean turns the light off. It doesn’t take long before he can see again in the dark, his eyes having adjusted. With just a slight shift, Castiel is facing Dean. He can tell without being able to look at his face that Dean’s wide awake. 

Dean must sense him looking, because there’s a sudden creaking noise and then he’s rolled onto his side, staring straight at Castiel. “Cas, can I just say-"

"Don't," Castiel whispered, eyes burning with fresh tears. "Please, Dean. Just... don't."

Anything Dean has to say will just be a lie. Castiel can’t survive that right now. 

At least Dean accepts that. He shifts so he's lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head as he stares up at the ceiling. Castiel stays where he is on his side, openly watching Dean. The two of them lie that way for a long time before Dean finally exhales and closes his eyes. "Night, Cas. Sweet dreams."

It's something they've said every single night since Castiel turned human. Sleep was so hard to get used to, and the nightmares he had were horrific. So, Dean did his best to help. He'd keep Castiel company at night. He'd wake up with him when he had his dreams. He'd check in on him whenever they were apart. 

And always, _always, _no matter what, he'd say goodnight and tell Castiel sweet dreams. It didn't matter if they were together or across the country from each other. It didn't matter if it was face to face, a phone call, or a text. It didn't matter if they were dead-tired, injured, or drunk off their asses. 

It didn't even matter if Dean went home with someone from the bars. 

Castiel always got his goodnight. His sweet dreams. 

And the fact that Dean gave it to him tonight, even after everything, gives Castiel hope that maybe he didn't ruin _everything. _Maybe, if they just wake up in the morning and tell themselves a real good lie about how the night before never happened, things will be fine. 

It's enough reassurance where Castiel can manage to say back, "Goodnight, Dean. Sweet dreams."

\----

Dean's never been more distracted during a hunt. He gets the monster wrong by jumping to conclusions, too concerned about Castiel across the library table to actually do thorough research. He misses a blatant clue at the scene because Castiel is staring off into space, looking seconds away from crying. When they hunt the thing down, he nearly gets himself killed because he's hyper-focused on every movement Castiel makes. 

By the time they're back at their motel in New York, the monster dead after a grueling three days, Dean knows something has to be done. He has to say something to fix this. He and Castiel can't go on this way. He won't survive it. 

But what the hell should he say? He stands under the scorching hot shower in the room he and Castiel are once again sharing, trying to figure out how to tackle the situation. He can't tell Castiel he loves him back.

Not that it'd be a lie. Dean does love him. Dean loves him so much that some days just the simple fact that Castiel exists makes it hard for Dean to breathe. But Dean _can't _love him. He _won't. _Before, he told himself he couldn't be with Castiel because he was an angel, and Dean's stained and broken. He had already gotten Castiel to rebel from hell, to fall once, to go through civil wars to go to purgatory, to die more than once. Dean couldn't be the downfall of the angel anymore. 

Once Castiel fell for good, Dean told himself Castiel was fragile. Dean loving him would just put a larger target on his very-human, very-mortal back. It'd be Lisa all over again, only worse. Because Dean can survive a life without Lisa. He can't survive a life without Castiel. 

And things were going great. He got to spend almost every day with Castiel. They get alone time during their nights in the impala. Sometimes they even go on hunts together without Sam, or get a free weekend in the bunker because Sam went off to help some other hunter he knows. 

Things were good. Manageable. _Safe_.

_God… why did Cas have to ruin that? And how the hell can Dean fix it? _

\----

When Dean comes out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Castiel's mouth goes dry. He's glad he's sitting, because it's been a while since he's seen the man with so little clothing, and adding in the drops of water running down his sharp edges, and the whole openly in love thing, and Castiel is having a hard time breathing. 

Dean's hand immediately grabs at the towel, holding it in place. "Cas! I - I, uh… I thought you were going with Sam for supplies?"

Feeling ashamed of his probably obvious reaction, Castiel mumbles, "He ended up going on his own. My ankle is sort of bothering me, so he made me turn back."

Dean's eyes narrow. "On your own? Injured? At night? How far did he make you walk? Did you have your gun on you?"

Castiel watches as Dean digs in his duffel, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and the small bag they use for medical supplies. "Cas!" Dean says loudly, reminding Castiel that he was asked a question. Or, well, multiple questions. 

He tries very hard to concentrate as Dean slips the sweatpants under his towel, letting the towel drops just a few seconds too soon, giving Castiel a flash of creamy, freckled skin he's never seen before. "He, uh… walked me to the door. To the, uh, the doorman. I was only alone on the elevator."

"Thank god we're staying somewhere nice tonight. If this place was sketchy, someone could have still hurt you." 

"I woulda been fine, Dean. And it's not that bad," he whispers, referring to his ankle that Dean is now kneeling in front of to look at. "Just sore."

"Why didn't you _tell _me you were hurt? You have to _tell me_ that stuff, Cas."

"Why? You don't tell us if you get bruises or your shoulder gets tweaked and hurts for a few days. It's not a big deal, Dean."

"This is different."

He doesn't say it, but he doesn't have to. Castiel hears what Dean really means anyway. 

_You're different._

And before, Castiel would have misinterpreted that. He would have felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Dean thinking Castiel is special. That Castiel is important. 

Now, Castiel sees it for what it is. Castiel is different because he's weak. A burden. All of that time and energy Dean spends on him doesn't come from being in love, it comes from obligation. All Castiel is to Dean is the damn angel-turned-human that Dean's now stuck caring for. 

Castiel's eyes water and, of course, Dean catches it. "Cas? Does it hurt that bad? I think I have some meds."

"No, Dean. I can barely feel it," he admits in a watery voice he can't even recognize. 

Dean brings in his eyebrows. "But then, why-" and he stops, understanding, and it breaks Castiel's heart to see the pain and guilt on Dean's face. "Cas… please, don't-"

"It's okay, Dean. Really."

"It's not, Cas."

"It is. Really. And my ankle is fine, okay? It's fine."

Dean stays down on one knee, a hand on Castiel's thigh, the other cradling his injured ankle. His thumb skates in circles along the curve of Castiel's joint. "I miss you, Cas. It's only been a few days, but god, I _miss _you. Can't we just - can't we just go back? Pretend you never said it?"

There has never been a pain that Castiel found unbearable. Not when he was an angel, and Michael disintegrated him with a snap. Not when he was tortured with angel blades. Not when he turned human and was stabbed in the gut. Not when Dean reacted the way he did the other night. 

But this? Castiel isn't sure he can survive this. 

Pushing to his feet, and side-stepping Dean, Castiel stumbles over an excuse to leave. "I'm gonna - I need to - I'll be back, just gotta… ya know. Get some air."

"Cas," Dean whispers his name in the same tone he used to before, when he would pray to him. Even without being able to feel what he used to feel as an angel, Castiel can recognize the longing in his name. The desperation.

He reminds himself that this is the man he loves, the man he will do anything for, and forces himself to ignore his feelings. Forces himself to give Dean a smile, even though Castiel feels like dying. "We're okay, Dean. Promise. Just need some air."

\----

Dean lasts six minutes before yanking clothes on and storming out of the hotel. He takes one look at Fifth Avenue and realizes his mistake. There's no way in hell he'll find Castiel in this city. Six minutes may not be a lot back in Lebanon, or some other small town where they're hunting, but in New York, six minutes is enough to disappear completely. 

Six minutes could be all it takes for him to lose Castiel forever. 

Tears burn Dean's eyes as he tries calling Castiel. He gives up after the third unanswered attempt. 

Castiel. He knows Castiel.

If he can just calm down, he can figure out where Castiel would go. 

After closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, he realizes the one place Castiel always found peace as an angel. He went there whenever he needed to seek revelation. He brought Dean there for his talks. Dean taught him the lesson about humanity mattering on a bench there when Castiel and Uriel wanted to level that town to protect a seal, and Dean had stopped them. 

And back in Lebanon, it's Castiel's favorite place to be. Especially on Saturdays. He loves to see all of the families as he sits on a bench by the river, feeding the ducks. 

Castiel has always found peace at parks. Now he's in New York City, the place with probably one of the most famous parks in the country, if not the world. 

Dean's not an idiot. Central Park is huge, and there's little chance he'll be able to find Castiel there, but it's a start, and that's good enough for him. 

He enters near the pond, since it’s the first entry point he comes across since walking in that direction, assuming that Castiel would see it and enter there as well. It’s eerie to see Central Park so empty. The place is shrouded in darkness, the air still and quiet compared to the bustling street Dean just left. The city lights shine down on the trees and water, giving everything a warm glow. When Dean lifts his gaze, he finds the Gapstow Bridge up ahead, the thing lit from the buildings in the distance like a beacon. 

And like fucking magic, there he is. Castiel Novak. Perched on one of the larger rocks on the edge of the pond, curled in on himself, chin lifted as he stares at the bridge. 

Dean gives himself a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets and watching the man he loves. The man he keeps hurting. The man he can’t imagine losing. The man he’d do anything for. 

He walks up to him from the side, wanting to give him a chance to sense movement so Dean doesn’t scare the crap out of him. When Castiel sees someone coming, he tenses up and reaches toward his pocket. Dean smiles at that, knowing the man’s knife is there. 

“I come in peace. Don’t shoot,” Dean teases, his voice falling flat despite the joke. 

Castiel’s shoulders drop, not exactly in relief, unfortunately, and Dean walks a little faster. He plans to sit down beside Castiel so they can talk, but Castiel launches himself to his feet and meets him halfway. 

That’s when Dean notices he’s crying. His face is covered in tears, eyes red enough to notice even in the low lighting. His voice trembles as he speaks. “We can go back. I - I take it back. I miss you too. I take it back, Dean. Okay? I take it back.”

“Cas-”

“Is it better now?” Castiel asks, grabbing the front of Dean’s shirt and clinging to him. “Did I fix it? I take it back.”

Dean’s heart breaks. 

No. It fucking crumbles. 

He pulls Castiel into his chest, carding his fingers through the man’s crazy curls and using them to hold Castiel’s face against him. Dean dips his chin down and rests his nose in his hair, inhaling him. Castiel releases a choked sob and says again, “I take it back.”

Dean closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Don’t take it back. I don’t wanna pretend it didn’t happen, okay?”

“No!” Castiel tries to pull away, but Dean tightens his hold on him. Deflating against Dean, Castiel just cries harder. “No! I take it back, okay? I take it back.”

“I love you, too,” Dean admits. 

Fingers dig into his back as Castiel sucks in a shuddery breath. “What?”

“I love you, Cas. Okay? I - I can’t escape the way I love you anymore. I’ve spent so damn long pretending. Thinking it’d be easier. Thinking it was for the best. I never wanted to love you. I still don’t want to love you. But,” Dean shrugs a shoulder, laughing softly as another tear falls down his cheek. “But I love you. I love you so fucking much. I’m tired of running from that.”

When Castiel tries to pull away again, Dean lets him. Watery blue eyes stare up at him, wide and afraid. “Do you mean that? Or are you just sayin’ it to fix things?”

“I mean it.” Dean cups Castiel’s cheeks with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears. Then he leans down and presses a soft, hesitant kiss against Castiel’s lips. He pulls away just enough to speak, their lips brushing together with each syllable. “I love you.”

Castiel releases another sob, this one relieved and happy. Then he fists the hair at the back of Dean’s head and crushes his lips to Dean’s. He kisses Dean until Dean’s dizzy and breathless, then pulls away to gasp, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ destiel-love-forever && on twitter @Destiellovefor1


End file.
